Eternal love mingles with ashes, 

as the loss of life and the ablution 

of mortal sins sully the tepid 

waters of our sacred Ganga.

Temple bells chime the battle between 

good and evil, waging within

our mutinous blood destined to spill. 

Deafening last whispers of 

unabashed life are heard 

in the debilitating crunch 

of the succulent banarasi paan 

before that final surge of 

adrenaline, until death closes 

its cold fingers around the soul, 

squeezing the subtlest traces of breath from the dying. 

The remains spat and scattered,

the departed and the living 

vie for every cubic millimetre 

of its land, water and air.

But fear not, here within the darkness,

 the fires burn bright, and within 

the charring cremated flesh and bone 

there is a beautiful serenity, 

echoes of silence, and the 

peace of deep transcendental slumber, of tormented souls being liberated from the punitive cycle of karmic rebirth. 

We can run from it till our lungs 

collapse, gasps of air sharp within our chests,

or reverentially gaze 

into the intrepid eye 

of everlasting imperishable bliss.